


Peace

by Deenerann



Series: Fleabag Snippets [6]
Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 18:20:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deenerann/pseuds/Deenerann
Summary: Conversations in the dark-Sorry, I meant to keep working on this series, but I had a bit of a disaster w/ a small house fire, and life got complicated. I'm back to writing now.





	Peace

I flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath, and then roll over to face her. She’s staring back at me, her eyes bright and glistening. My pounding heart catches in my chest and I have to blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. I still can’t believe I’m actually here. It’s been so long and I honestly didn’t think tonight would turn out to be quite as miraculous as it has. So much has changed in the last hour it’s hard to wrap my brain around it all.

“I’m surprised he didn’t wake up through all that,” I manage to mutter, reaching over to stroke the soft skin of her shoulder.

She laughs, the sound quiet in the soft darkness of the room. “No, he’s a heavy sleeper, thank God.”

“Yeah, we probably don’t want to traumatize him quite yet.”

“Plenty of time for that,” she agrees, and snuggles into my chest. “The therapy bills will come later, I’m sure.”

I kiss the top of her head—her hair smells like lemons and sunlight—and let the joy of being here wash over me. I haven’t been so calm in I don’t know how long. Probably ever. It’s so strange, how just a few moments with her makes me feel more at peace than all my years in Dublin and the church ever did. That feeling hasn’t changed at all, even after not seeing her for a year. It’s like we picked back up right where we left off in that bus stop. Thank God.

Still….

“I’ve been thinking of maybe becoming a priest in the Church of England.” Better to get that out now, see what she thinks.

She rears back, sitting up to look down at me, horror etched across her face. The loss of her skin against mine feels like an open wound.

“What? You’re what?” Her voice is high pitched and panicked.

“No, no,” I say, shaking my head and grabbing her arm.

She slaps at my hands. “You’re going to leave me again?” She sounds furious. And so hurt.

Crap.

“Of course not! The Anglican church doesn’t have the same rules as the Catholics. No celibacy vow. Priests can have relationships. They can even marry. We’ll be fine.” I’m stumbling over my words, trying to speak as fast as I can to calm the situation before I muck it up any worse than I already have.

She blinks. “They can?”

I nod. “They can. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Especially not now. You’re both stuck with me as long as you’ll have me.”

The panic leaves her eyes, but she doesn’t stop watching me. “You mentioned marriage. Does that mean you’re asking?”

I grin, relieved and a little terrified at the same time. “Oh, at some point, I’m sure I’ll get around to asking.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Well, please keep me up to date on your plans.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” I agree.

She shakes her head and lets out a small huff of laughter. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought God won out again.”

“No, that’s not happening. I think he has to accept that fact that I love you just as much.”

“Just as much?”

I shrug. “You may have an edge, clearly, seeing as I’m laying here, a defrocked, scandalous mess in your bed.”

“Scandalous or not, you’re finally _my_ mess. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

I shake my head. “You never lost me, mhuirnín. You’ve always had a hold on my heart, from that first night in the restaurant. I never stopped loving you, even when I was being an idiot about it.”

She sighs and snuggles back up against me. I let out a long breath of relief and wrap my arms around her to pull her closer.

“I just want you to be happy. If that means being a priest again, non-Catholic, of course, then I support that. Just know that I’m still going to be an atheist.” Her voice is muffled against my skin.

I snort. “That’s okay. There will be plenty of bibles in the house for you to smell.”

She lightly smacks my stomach. “Shut up, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Ah, but I did, and now I’ll never let you forget it.”

She laughs, the puff of air tickling my skin. “So, I’ve been keeping track of you this past year.”

“You have? How?”

“Parish newsletter. I’ve had copies delivered here.” She sounds embarrassed.

“Really? I didn’t know that. How’d you manage that?”

“Claire pulled some strings for me.”

“Ah. Claire is a bit terrifying, I’m not going to lie.”

“She absolutely is.”

“So what do you think, this last year of stalking me?”

“That you write a hell of an angry restaurant review. Also, you’ve looked really sad.”

“I’ve _been_ really sad. I missed you, and I’ve been lonelier than I ever was before I met you, which was pretty fucking lonely.”

She sniffs and rubs her cheek against my chest. “I missed you, too. But I had Claire, and then Jude. You haven’t had anyone, have you?”

“Well, Pam, I guess. And the parishioners. They couldn’t compare to you, though. To all this.”

She props herself up and stares down at me. “You don’t have to be lonely anymore.”

I catch my breath and almost stomp down the flash of happiness that rushes through me before I realize that I don’t have to do that anymore. I can finally let myself be happy. With her. Pulling her back down, I wrap my arms around her waist and close my eyes.

I start to doze off, her breath warm on my skin, when she suddenly startles and sits up, her eyes wide and panicked.

“Fuck!”

“What?” I ask, worried.

“I told Godmother I’d come to tea tomorrow.”


End file.
